Return of a Dead Man
by Mad Hatter Usagi
Summary: After his abolishment on February 25th, 1947, Prussia- or rather, Gilbert -disappears. Almost seventy years later, he reappears on Germany's doorstep to revisit his past. When Hungary visits, he really has to deal with his issues. PruHun! T for language and talk of suicide.
1. Chapter 1

_"On this day, February 25th, 1947, we gather on a piece of discouraging business." The American said. He was reading the speech that England had written for him._

_"For his crimes, the country of Prussia is hearby officially disbanded." America said solemnly._

_Prussia, from his seat several feet away, was the only one who felt the true weight of the words. His brother beside him frowned and sighed while Italy sniffled and clung to Germany. France and Spain forced their gazes downward and gritted their teeth, remembering their friendship before the war. Hungary and Austria smiled softly, glad that he was disappearing._

_None of them truly understood, he thought bitterly. The pain that coursed through his body as soon as the words left the other nation's mouth was almost paralyzing. The disbanded country looked down at his hands breifly and was greeted by a terrible sight. His fingers were translucent. He let no sign of it into his expression, he would not be remembered as being weak or transparent. He was Prussia, or he used to be. Either way, he had pride. _

_So he stood, shoved his hands in his pockets and forced a smile on his face before he turned to his brother. "Can we go now? I'm sick of hanging around such downers."_

_Germany stared up at his brother and thought that maybe this didn't mean that much to his brother, maybe he was going to be fine. "Ja, Prussia."_

_"It's Gilbert," the man said turning away from the country and strolling out the door. The pain in his body ached worse with every movement, even as he finished, "Gilbert Beilschmidt."_

((Line Break))

Gilbert sat up in the bed, eyes bleary from waking. It had been three weeks since his disbandment. He had begun to live with his brother, and at first it was fine. But other countries came to visit often, people that Gilbert had hurt in his previous life, and people whom he had been friends with. He was ashamed of what he was reduced to, so he mostly stayed within the four walls of his bedroom suite, sending a list of things he needed down on the dumbwaiter.

The pain never faded, and even more symptoms had been added to his troubles. Coughing up blood was a frequent trouble. So was forgetfulness and breathlessness. Every once in a while he'd throw up or go into a violent fit of pain, almost like a siezure. His entire right forearm was now gone, but he still felt like it was there. His shadow limb made him wary of day-to-day life, and brought yet another reason not to see others.

Gilbird fluttered over and snuggled down on his head, chirping melodically. Gilbert was always peaceful when his bird was around. And thoughtful. So when a new thought came into his head, he didn't think twice. Soon he was rifling through his closet, searching for a duffel bag. When he found one, he shoved a bare minimum of clothes, a wallet full of cash, a bag of birdseed, his passport, and his journal into it. He pulled on a coat

He pulled the strap over his shoulder and climbed out the second story, not wanting to see anyone. Thankfully, his one hand was nimble, so he reached the ground quickly. Now was the start of his new life, he thought, where he could really just be "Gilbert Beilschmidt" and not Prussia.

((Line Break))

A few days later, when Germany realized that his brother hadn't sent a list of things down recently, he decided to knock on his brother's door. So, after knocking and calling out several dozen times and not getting an answer, he kicked the door down angrily, because he was sick of his brother's sulking. The room was empty, nothing living in it. Nothing seemed out of place, although Germany hadn't ever been in the room while Gilbert had occupied it.

The only way to tell that he'd really disappeared was the fact that there was nothing to care for a bird in the room, meaning that it was with Gilbert.

Because of his obsessive compulsive cleanliness, he scoured the room with a dust rag. In several spots there were flecks of dried blood, which made him uneasy. Later on, Germany called everyone who Gilbert might turn to and asked if they had seen him. Everyone said that they hadn't seen him since the disbandment. Some of them refused to look for him because of his disbandment, after all he had been the most aggravating country, and now he was just an aggravating human.

A week of nervous waiting passed without any news of his brother. Soon, all of Gilbert's friends and family had given up hope of ever finding him. They all supposed he was dead somewhere, being to proud to let anyone see his downfall. They were wrong.

((Line Break))

Most of the countries had begun to use only their human names when meeting socially, it was just getting strange to use their country names. They had become more relaxed socially, not always politically, but when they were together they were usually pretty chill. On the anniversary of Gilbert's abolishment, Ludwig usually retreated into himself. He was deeply upset about losing his brother, his only family.

So, on February 25th, Ludwig stayed home from the meeting and lay on the couch. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, uncharacteristically lost. He heard the doorbell ring, but ignored it. But there it was again and again, and soon the visitor seemed to be leaning on the button. Ludwig stood and stormed to the front of the house, swinging the door open.

Gilbert stood there, looking a bit nervous and edgy, but also incredibly happy. The little yellow bird darted inside, ready to resume it's home in Gilbert's old room. Ludwig's jaw dropped as he stared at his brother whom he had thought had died. "Aren't you going to invite me in for a beer?" The red-eyed man asked.

The German nodded silently, waving him inside. Gilbert passed him, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled his coat off with his right hand, a hand that he seemed to be stiff with, and hung it up on the rack. Then he proceeded to the kitchen without looking back at his brother, but Ludwig did follow, half afraid that the man in front of him was a ghost.

When Ludwig reached the kitchen, Gilbert was leaning back against the counter, a beer bottle to his lips. He looked relaxed and slightly amused by his little brother's reactions. "No welcome homes?"

"You're really here? No jokes?"

"Why would I joke about me being here?" Gilbert questioned.

"You've been gone almost seventy years, bruder, and you didn't contact anyone."

"I needed time alone, is all. Had to get my head straight after all of _that_. Then some stuff happened that couldn't be avoided, and I ended up being away longer than intended." The platinum-haired man shrugged.

After a considerable silence, Ludwig asked, "If you're human, how come you aren't old?"

"I think I've become a vague idea, rememebered by history, so I'm not totally gone. I'm still going to be around as long as you and every other country, I'm just not one. Kinda like Roman Empire, since he's still around."

"Oh, that's...well, it vaguely makes sense."

"Took me fifty years to come up with it," he said proudly.

"So, are you staying here again?"

"Can I?"

"Of course, Gilbert."

"It's only for a little while, until I see everyone again, then I'm going to move on."

"Why?" Ludwig asked incredulously. "Why would you leave us again? I missed you Gil, and so did a lot of other people."

"I'm not like the rest of you guys, I don't really have a home, so I'm going to see as much of the world as possible, relaxing and partying in every new place I find," Gilbert replied, a smile on his face.

"So I won't see you again after this?"

"You will, I'll visit to mess with you every once in a while. But I just...can't. I can't stay."

Ludwig persisted, "You can. You can live here, or near here, or something. You could live a good life."

"I'm not what I was. No matter what you say, I was broken badly after my dissolvement. So badly that I don't exactly see the same pieces of oppurtunity that you do. I see boredom, torture, and sadness when I stay in a place with people I know, not the happy, calm life that you've lived in."

"I am Germany, and there are turmoils of being a country. You know that, Prussia." The German said without thinking.

"I'm not Prussia!" He snapped, "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, a dead thing that will always be there." Gilbert's eyes wore a startlingly traumatized expression, like he was reciting a line that made him want to kill himself.

"Gilbert...I..." Ludwig tried.

The other shook his head, his eyes on the ground. "I'm tired from travelling. I'm just going to take a guest room and get some sleep," the deceased nation muttered as he walked away.

((Line Break))

In the dead of night, when Ludwig was positive that Gilbert was asleep, he picked up his phone and called Elizabeta. After Gilbert's disappearance she was the one who had come to him sobbing, despite her happiness over his abolishment. She had realized how much he had meant to her when he was gone, however cliche that was.

The phone rang several times before she picked up with a tired, "Hello?"

"Elizabeta, wake up."

She yawned and muttered, "I'm up, I'm up. What is it?"

"Gilbert is home. He turned up at my house today."

"What?" She shrieked.

Ludwig nodded, although no one could see him, "Out of the blue he just rings my doorbell. I think something must have happened to him. He's a lot different..."

"Then how do you know it's really him?" She asked doubtfully.

"Come over tomorrow, and you'll see. But I have to warn you, his heart is wounded, and possibly his head too."

"Okay, I will. Goodnight."

"Guten nacht."

((Line Break))

Ludwig was making breakfast when the Hungarian rang the doorbell the next morning. Gilbert wasn't up yet, or at least he hadn't left his room. He sat aside the pan with eggs and walked to the front of the house to let her in, then sat her in the kitchen as he resumed cooking.

She wore a grassy green shirt that matched her eyes, paired with a pair of white capri pants. A braided leather belt wrapped around her waist, and an old rose and pearl-colored beaded bracelet that Gilbert had once found in a market on one of his war escapades, hundreds of years before when he was still the Teutonic Knights, lay against her wrist. Her trademark pair of pink flowers were substituted with a pair of flower hair clips that matched her bracelet.

"He's here?" She asked, still doubtful.

"Up in his room. Once I'm done cooking, I'll go get him. He seemed really exhausted when he got here." Then Ludwig began filling her in on everything Gilbert had said.

Nodding, she leaned on the counter, a frown on her face, "What do I say to him? I mean, do I say 'Welcome back,' or do I yell at him for leaving, or do I stay quiet? When I last saw him, I was angry with him, and he probably thinks I hate him. But I don't, I-"

"Elizabeta, calm down. It'll be fine. He said he wanted to see everyone, before he left again."

"He's leaving **again**?" She squeaked.

"Apparently, maybe you'll be able to get him to talk more. I'll go get him." he said.

Hungary nodded gently, slowly, as her friend set aside the pan again. She watched as Germany left the kitchen and walked upstairs to knock on Gilbert's door. "Wake up," he called loudly.

A groan came from within, and the sound of someone rolling over in bed, when suddenly a voice yelled back, "But I'm tired!"

"We have company."

"Who?" Came his muffled response, probably from having a pillow shoved over his head.

Ludwig sighed, "Does it matter?"

"Yes. I am not getting up for anyone I don't like," he declared.

"It's Hungary, Gilbert. She wants to see you, she's in the kitchen."

A crash, like he had fallen out of bed, then another call, which was amplified by laughter, "Does she have a pan within reach?"

_A joke?_ Thought Ludwig, _Is he actually willing to see her?_ "Yes."

"Get them out of reach, I'm coming!" The fallen nation yelled as he rummaged through his duffel for clothes.

Ludwig walked, completely bewildered, downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, he took all of the pans and placed himself between Elizabeta and them. "He's coming."

She sat on the edge of her seat, watching the doorway intently. So intently that she, and Ludwig for that matter, didn't see or hear Gilbert creeping inside from the kitchen door that led out to the garden. He sneaked up behind Elizabeta, grinning the entire time, then yelled, "Boo!"

Elizabeta jumped and squeaked, turning immediately to see him in a fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach over a dark band t-shirt and a red hoodie. The top was paired with a pair of dark jeans and some red Chuck Taylor's. He also wore a necklace that she hadn't seen him ever wear before, and neither had Ludwig. The necklace consisted of a small leather pouch on a leather chord, but the pouch obviously contained something.

"G-Gil!"

A broad smile was on his face as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and said, "How are you, Liz?"

"A little pissed," she said as she scowled.

"Scowling gived you wrinkles, dear. It's nice to see you though," Gilbert said as he turned to grab some breakfast.

"Really? Even though I was glad you-?" She began.

"Even though. I was a douche back then anyway, although you could argue that I still am. It doesn't really matter anymore anyway. Things've changed." He sat down with a plate of food and ate while she spoke.

"What's changed?"

"Well, I'm not a country. You aren't married. Luddy's not divided. There's no World War III, that I know of. And I've gotten better again."

"Better at what?" Elizabeta asked.

"I was sick for a while after everything went down."

"But you never get sick," she protested.

"Well I was then. I was coughing up blood, and my body hurt really bad. For some reason my body was vanishing too. When I left, my whole right upper arm was gone."

"It's back now, obviously."

"Well, yeah. It got weird. In fact, I was all but gone when I started reappearing again. Scared the crap out of me. I think it was about fifty years ago when I was completely back."

"Where were you when you were gone?"

Thinking for a moment, Gilbert said, "Well, everywhere really. I checked all of Asia, except Russia, out, and then I spent a year or so in Amsterdam, and I traveled around Europe for a while. Oh! I checked out Chernobyl! Then I went to Africa, took a plane to South America, checked that out for a while...then I went to Mexico and partied on the coast for a while. I ended up in America and spent some time in LA, New York, and Orlando...then I took a plane to Britain to just chill for a while. The last place I was...I think it was...Norway?"

"You mean you don't remember?" She asked incredulously.

He shrugged, "I just hop on a plane sometimes."

"Where do you get all the money?" Ludwig piped up.

Gilbert pulled out his wallet and then a credit card. "I found it in my wallet a couple weeks before I left. It's limitless, and it never charges me." Then a debit card was pulled out, "And this one too. Just found it there, and kept it. It's just one of the strange things that happened to me."

Ludwig nodded, but his eyes glanced at the clock. "I've got a date with Italy, so I better get going. See you guys later." The German walked out of the kitchen, and a few moments later the front door closed behind him.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as the platinum-haired man set his plate in the sink, but Hungary couldn't contain herself any longer. "I heard from Ludwig that you left because you didn't feel like you belonged any more, and you just wanted to move on. But it's more than that, isn't it?"

He was still, completely still, as soon as she said that. Then he nodded, "I didn't want him to know, because he'd probably blame himself or something. But I was ashameed for so long that I was living. I thought, when I was abolished, that I might be able to atone for all of the crazy, inhumane things I did, by dying. But I didn't. I kept living, even when I shouldn't. I don't want to live when there's nothing for me anymore, and when I've committed crimes that shouldn't even be thought of. I'm too cowardly to take my own life though..."

She stood from her seat and walked over to him. First, she slapped him so hard that there was an echo in the empty house, and then she hugged him. "Well it's a good thing you're a coward then."

"Liz, you know what I've done, I deserve to die in the most painful way possible," he said, his hands still resting at his sides.

She clung to his frame as she responded, "Gil, everyone's forgiven you, but no one will ever forget. You have to forgive yourself and move on."

"How can I when it haunts me everywhere I go?"

"By remembering what you have. I bet you think that everyone still hates you, but they don't. People love you, and have missed you all this time," she said, looking up at him.

"Bullshit," Gilbert muttered harshly.

"Ludwig would retreat to his house and sit alone, doing nothing all day but think about you, his big brother, on the anniversary of your abolishment. Every year on the day we found out you were gone, Francis and Antonio would travel to a new country to search for you, even if they were sure you were dead. You were the light in our lives, before the war, when we really knew you. You made everything fun and better in pretty much every way," she choked on her words and buried her face in his chest.

"Liz..."

"You don't know how much it hurt when I realized...I thought I'd never see you again. I had a broken heart for years, Gil. I loved you. I really did, and I still do, and you've been thinking like this? How do you think that makes me feel, Gil? That I couldn't help you for so long?"

The fallen country felt her tears bleed through his shirt, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. "One of the worst things I thought of over the years was that I hurt you during the war. I didn't want to live if I hurt you, because you are everything to me. Now I know that I've hurt you more by staying away..." His voice was husky as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Don't break my heart again, Gil, or this time I'll break your face with my pan," she muttered.

Gilbert laughed, his body wracked with it, "I promise not to. Because you saved mine."


	2. Chapter 2

A week and a half after his return, Gilbert had finally finished moving all of his stuff into Elizabeta's house. Sometime after their little "moment", the Hungarian invited him to move in with her. After getting his things settled, he realized that living with her would be like walking on eggshells with mines hidden underneath. One false step and she would explode into tears or anger or some other strange emotion.

She made sure that he wasn't sleeping _with_ her, but across the hall. She was afraid that she'd grow too close to him, and be even more devastated when he left her. He had told her that he hadn't planned to leave before, and this made her anxious because she thought that a day would come where she woke and knocked on his door, and he wouldn't be there. He'd be gone like before, taking her heart with him. But he wasn't going to leave, even if he hadn't told her that, he simply thought it was implied.

He loved her, and she loved him, yet those three special words hadn't yet escaped the confines of their lips. Elizabeta was still terrified of her heart breaking, and Gilbert simply wasn't the type to say such a thing without the topic being brought up by someone else. So the two just skirted around each other, searching for something in their lives that would prove that the Prussian was there to stay, for her as well as others.

On that day, Elizabeta and Gilbert were sitting outside in the garden, next to a patch of tulips and cornflowers, eating a simple lunch of sandwiches and staring at the sky. An idea suddenly struck Elizabeta so she said, "How about you go out drinking with Francis and Antonio? They've really missed you. Wait- I don't think anyone's told them that you're back yet."

"Yeah, Gilbert was never really fond of France, and he never really saw Spain all that much. Italy might have told them...but I think him and Ludwig went to visit Japan a couple of days after I came back." Gilbert shrugged.

"Call them and suggest you guys go out for drinks."

"But-"

"No. Call them now, Gil. They missed you. They really did. I'll bet you anything they'll flip if you call them now."

"Later," he said nervously, looking away from her adorably scrunched up eyebrows and tweaked little nose.

She stood up on her knees and straddled his lap, clasping his face in her hands. His eyes tried to avoid hers, but her intense gaze made it difficult. "Please, for me? I want you, and them, to be happy. I can tell you're worried they'll be pissed at you. Maybe they will be, a little. But you came back to face your past, and you need to do this, Gil."

Gilbert stared now, at how her dress' ruffles spilled in waves over his legs, at the glint in her beautiful green eyes, at how that dress also showed the contours of her body so perfectly. He couldn't refuse anything that this girl- this goddess -told him to do. His heart was beating just fast enough that her wrist could feel his pulse against it. It didn't surprise her when he leaned in and kissed her breathless on that March day.

When they pulled apart, his face shone with a newfound confidence. "Okay. I'll call them now."

"You want me to go?" She asked, willing to give him the privacy he needed.

"Nah, I like having you right here. Always," he said as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, nudging his hand against her inner thigh, making her flush pink.

"Okay. I-I'll stay here then."

Before dialing Francis, he pulled her against him so that her entire body was pressed to him. Somehow, the cliché of them fitting together like puzzle pieces seemed like it was true for once, at least for them. She could hear the faint dial tone as she shut her eyes and nuzzled the crook of his neck, sending goosebumps through his skin.

"Bonjour! Who am I speaking to?" Francis asked from the other end.

"Oi, Francy Pants, wanna go out for some drinks tonight?"

"Gilbert?!" Francis nearly screamed, his voice dripping with so many unidentifiable emotions.

"Ja?"

"Y-you're back?"

"Why do you think I'm calling you, dummkopf?!" Gilbert laughed, making his chest shake. Elizabeta smiled softly, shutting her eyes, feeling incredibly content to just sit there and have him laugh, even his annoying "Kesesesese..." laugh that he did, as long as he was there and happy.

"Great! I'll call Antonio and tell him. Same place as always?"

"It's still there?" Gilbert asked in a baffled voice.

"Oui, and it's exactly the same as before too."

A reminiscent smile sneaked it's way onto Gilbert's face as he replied, "That's cool. Seeya tonight at eight?"

"Sure! Can't wait." Francis replied in a tone that said that he had been waiting for much too long already, and this would be the way to lift his spirits.

"Seeya later man."

"Later!"

Gilbert hit the "end call" button on his phone, looking down on Elizabeta who stared expectantly up at him. "So I'm going out tonight."

"All I ask is that you don't cheat...or leave again."

"I'm not leaving, Liz. I promise."

"How can I know that though? How can I be sure that one day I'm not going to find you gone? I'm scared, Gil. I'm scared I'm going to have my heart-broken again because I get to close. I want to get close though, because you're you." Tears pricked at her eyes and she quivered against him.

"Liz, look at me." She pulled away to stare into his eyes as he said, "I love you. That's why I can't, and won't, leave. It's as simple as that. And there's other people I love here, like Ludwig, and Francis and Antonio. I wouldn't be able to convince myself to leave."

"But-"

"No buts! The awesome has spoken."

Elizabeta burst into a fit of giggles, squirming slightly on his lap, "The awesome? G-Gilbert...ahahahaha!" Once she finally stopped laughing, she looked up at him with a huge smile on her face, "I'm glad you aren't leaving. I don't want to lose the man I love again."

* * *

Gilbert sat at the bar, waiting for the drink he ordered. He was a bit early because he was anxious to see his friends again. The door opened behind him, sending in a waft of cool air and the sound of bells hitting the door. There was a pause where the person standing at the door was searching the room, and then a loud gasp.

Two bodies slammed into Gilbert, knocking him off his stool with them following. The two men hugged him tightly, causing him even more pain. Looking up at them, he saw that it was Francis and Antonio. Francis looked relieved and beyond happy, and Antonio looked like he was about to burst into tears of happiness.

"Gilbert!" Antonio cried, nuzzling his friend's chest. "We missed you so much! We thought you were dead!"

"Well, he did anyway. I was fine. I knew you'd be back," Francis said nonchalantly, standing as he did. His face told another story. He looked like he hadn't slept well in ages, coupled with a nearly gone deep anxiety and a crippling depression. Both of them looked like that. They really did miss him, more than they were willing to admit.

"Either way, I'm sorry I didn't call. Lemme up and I'll explain over my beer," Gilbert said, pointing to where a bottle waited for him on the counter.

Antonio stood and helped him up, his watery eyes from before had been replaced by a true, ditzy smile that he had been known for. They all sat down at the bar and when Gilbert was about to grab his drink, Francis plucked it from the counter and drank from it. "You owe me, asshole. We haven't seen you in forever."

Gilbert grinned, a sight that his friends hadn't seen since before World War 1, as he nodded. "Sure, drinks're on me."

Instantly, Antonio leaned on the bar and called for the bartender, ordering two more drinks. Then he turned back to his red-eyed friend, "So, where were you?"

"Well..." Gilbert went on to tell his story in great detail, sometimes pulling out his cell phone to show them pictures of places, or girls, that he'd seen. Each of them nodded and laughed when they realized that they'd almost been in the same exact places several times without knowing it.

After he was finished telling where he had went, there was a long pause where all they did was drink. "Why'd you leave, anyway?" Francis asked, staring at his bottle. He secretly worried that it was because he had fought against him in both World Wars, and after he was disbanded, he truly thought he was alone.

"I was hurting a lot. Like, more than just the fact that I didn't know what I was anymore, but my body was reacting to something. I literally started to fade away for a while, and I got really sick. With that and everything else, I sorta didn't want anyone to see me go through that, 'cuz I thought I was dying, ya'know. So I decided to leave. I didn't really plan it." He shrugged like it was no big deal, but his friends stared at him, completely bewildered by the news.

"You were dying?" Antoni squeaked, tears dripping down his face without him realizing for a moment. When he did, he wiped them away quickly, embarrassed by his show of emotion.

"Well, I got pretty close anyway," Gilbert replied, setting his bottle down. "I was all but dead when I started getting better. I'm all good now, and I'm sticking around."

"You are?"

"I swear."

"We wouldn't allow you to leave anyway, not without us at least," Francis said.

"So, where're you staying? Ludwig's?" Antonio asked.

"Nah, I'm staying with Lizzie," Gilbert grinned.

Francis laughed, "You two finally together?"

"Yeah, finally," Gilbert laughed.


End file.
